Panda Bear
by silvereyed angel
Summary: third addition to mini-series. He's intense, handsome, a laugh and a love. The front man and the panda-lover. Joella JONAS song by owl city.


**This is an ode to the panda, one of my favourite animals and apparently, Joe's too. Third addition to my 'miniseries' about the brothers. Following up Glue and Beautiful Disaster, once again kindof pointless and yeah. You get it.  
Enjoy, **

* * *

Here we are, flying yet again to yet another city for yet another JONAS concert. This time in Tokyo, leaving awesome San Francisco behind. Joe is pumped, because he, for some reason, really likes Asia. He's been acting crazy all day.  
Then again, he's been acting like a crazy person ever since I met him and I cannot say i love him any bit less for it.

Now he's going on about how he's going to visit, adopt and take home a panda bear. He's making large movements with his hands and his hair is constantly in his eyes, forcing him to flip it out.  
I giggle. I can't help it. It flies from my lips, as many times before. Joe is the only one that can accomplish such a non-fashion-related girlish reaction from me.

Nick is staring at me weirdly, yet amused. His eyes are so similiar to Joe's. Only Joe's are a more caramel kind of brown. With little sparkles, laughter-sparkles. Like laughter-dimples, which he happens to have too. Just because he laughes so much.

I pull my knees to my chest, not caring I'll be wrinkling my shirt, as I often warn Joe not to do.  
He always wrinkles them, he always does, no matter how many times I warn him. It's not like he does it on purpose, he just forgets. Busy with everything else in his overly busy life.

"Hey, you okay?" He asks, a smile on his face but his eyes concearned as he sits down next to me. His brothers busy with Nick and Kevin-things. Shortly said, playing the guitar and dreaming.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just tired." I answer, smiling back without giving the corners of my mouth the order to pull themselves up.  
"I know, 's been one hell of a day, hasn't it?" He wonders, distracted by something outside the plane's window. "I'm beat." He states and I nod in agreement with his blunt statement.

Five minutes later he's asleep. Yeah, he's one of those people that can just fall asleep everywhere, in a flying plane, old hotel, mahogany desk, Nick's drumset. He just closes his eyes. No need for a bed, blankets or pillow. Unless you call my shoulder a pillow, of course.  
A smile graces my lips. Not in the poetic way, but in the kind-of-lame-grin way.  
He's adorable, as I have said before. Even when sleeping and for the first time this day, quiet and peaceful. His mouth half-open.

I'm glad his contracts are finally void. So he's free to go out. No longer doing too many things at the same time and selfishly enough, having more time for me.  
I say 'more' because, even though he needs his sleep and his rehearsal time, he always reserves some precious time for me. It's who he is, way too kind for his own good, as I have told him many times before.  
But he won't listen, he just says: "you're my childhood friend, my best friend. I'm not dumping you, just because I'm famous." And I shut up.

* * *

A while later, I wake up. My head now on Joe's shoulder, he's awake and once again looking out the window, his arm draped over my shoulder, because it's awfully cold or just because it's a very old and common pose between the two of us; it's the way we would always sit in the corner of the playground, talking about our glorious futures. Me as a stylist and him as a rockstar.  
I smile as I realise how much of our dreams have come true. Those dreams of two little kids in the corner of the playground, her head on his shoulder, his arms around hers.  
We never stopped doing this, because it's the truly important things he never forgets, ever. So we sit here, like always, no one ever notices anymore, only we do.

I look to my left, only silence between us as we watch the foreign architecture of Japan. On houses and building tops, showered with beams as we swallow the sundrops.

"You think there are panda's there?" He suddenly asks, now completely serious. Gently striking a strand of blonde hair behind my ear.

"Maybe, yes, though I think it's more of a Chinese thing. Why?" I ask him.

"Because I like panda's, not just because of the 'get off my bamboo' thing. They are amazing creatures, dying creatures. They're cuddly and fierce and they look really cool. They're really protective of their youngs and their mates. Always in for playing..."

"But they can be serious and sit in silence at other times." I finish his sentance.

He looks at me confused. "Yeah, how do you know that?"

"I just do." I shrug. Still smiling at his rant about panda's. He's always so intense about stuff. If he loves something, he loves it unconditionally. If he doesn't. He hates it. That's that. When he sets his mind to something, it won't change for the love of Mike.

"I swear we don't need phones, we read each others minds." He states.

I laugh, again and answer: "I swear, if my echo's could reach your ears, I could save my calls."

We call alot. We just do, he just does, because he likes talking to people in the middle of the night and frankly I'm the only person who doesn't gets annoyed with that. I love it, secretly.

* * *

So yes, I've fallen for the curse, the never failing JONAS-love-bug. I'm in love with a Lucas-brother.  
I Estella Malone am in love, in love with Joe.

We're flying above the east-river, which is a blue line beneath us in the mountains of Japan. I can almost inhale the mountain air.  
I'm above the east river, In love. What happens?

"What are you worried about?" He asks, immediately catching up to my mood. Concern edging to panic evident in his voice.  
"Nothing." I say to him, lie to him, as I have done before to save this friendship. He sighs, because he knows. We both know.

We continue to stare out the window, as we fly over a city. It's bright with neon and flashing colours, we're staring at all these lights and I am going blind.

* * *

"Come on! Hurry, we don't want to be late." The nervous voice of Tom Lucas yells with the high-pitched voice his oldest son inherited. No one actually speeds up.  
This always happens, at every other airport. Which happen to be so much, I have a constant jet-lag. And all those airports look like navy-yards. Straight lines, white and grey. Boring.

Joe, of course, in an attempt to contrast with the boring colours, has put on a brigth neon-fluorescent orange T-shirt. And frankly, he can pull it off. Especially with his olive skin underneath it. It makes him look hispanic, foreign.  
The airport is filled with hard working security guards and in an overly practised movement, we all pull out our access cards. Like we have done so many times before.

We travel way too much. I don't know why I put up with it. It's tiring and hard work and most of the time, it makes me just want to go home and crawl into a corner.

The numbers on my access card are wearing off, so we have to go through a whole procedure to make sure I'm really who I say I am. (even with the word of 10 different people confirm that face) and get me a new one. His hand constantly on my shoulder.  
Normally, an access card wears off in about six years.  
I got mine, given to me by Joe; the only one to think of it, seven months ago.

We rush towards the hotel, drop off our main belongings and then hurry towards the already crowded stadium, where I try to get the boys in shape, call macy; as it is the only time we're both awake, calm down Mr. Lucas and instruct two new assistants who are walking around like headless zombies.

Luckily, there's Joe, who calms his father down by putting him next to the oase of peace that is his brother Nick. Entertaining the assistants with corny jokes. Having Kevin call with Macy, so the two animal lovers can bable about imaginative dream-creatures and then helping me with the outfits.

He. Is. Awesomenes. Multiplied. By. A. Thousand.

I fall down on a chair, exhausted as they run on stage. Not understanding how they can put up with this, the constant traveling, the tiring concerts, all the paparazzi attention. Me, Macy, their family, other friends and their lives. How can they _not_ fall down from exhausion? How come I don't fall down and sleep like there's no tomorrow?

Honestly, I'm off when we stay at home, or in Paris, my beloved city, on those old winter nights, beneath the snowy veil. Content like a panda bear.

Yes, now I'm talking about panda bears. 'Cuddly and fierce.' Ha. ha. You're so funny Stella.  
'look really cool and are protective of their youngs and mates.'

Kind of like Joe... If you think about it. He's the cuddliest person you could find in this whole stadium. Hugs are like drugs to him. He's a hug-addict, but at the same time he's pretty cool about things. He certainly has the rockstar thing going on. And thanks to me he lookst awesome too.  
Joe, more then any of his brothers, is protective of everything he loves because he loves it so intensely.  
He's like a panda-bear, not only in the cute cuddly kind of way, but also in the 'get off my bamboo' kind of way.

I smile as I watch him on stage, energy vibes coming from every part of him.  
Maybe there is a reason why I go through all this. Maybe it isn't that negative because positive makes negative less negative. And if' there's one positive thing, it's that singing, jumping thing on stage that I can't help but love.  
He's the reason I go on, because of his energy, his humour and his intense way of doing things. Because I know he's going to take care of me, no matter what, because he's that boy that sat with me in the corner of the playground, the only boy that would allow me to experiment on him, even with make-up, just because he loves me.  
The only one that could make me smile after Shane dumped me, the one to come over with chick-flicks and ice-cream and a penelope peachpit spoon  
He's amazing and my reason to go on, how can you not? When you have him as an example?  
Every time you look at him, you feel content.

_Content like a panda bear  
Still breathing the fresh mountain air  
I'll put on a diving tank  
And sing when I inhale  
_  
Because he's Joe, he's like a panda-bear.

* * *

**It's true. I hope you enjoyed my little, way-more-cuter-in-my-mind drabble of the adorable Joe. And a distraction to the temptation of looking up exam jam.**

Please push the button.. I would really appreciate your opinions on this one.. not usually one to beg for reviews, so, yeah. Love you so much, even for just reading.  
~silver


End file.
